Stormy Weather
by sproketsdance
Summary: A Kirk/Spock romance inspired by The Notebook, but is not a crossover.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first Star Trek fanfiction (I hope it isn't painfully obvious...), and it's somewhat inspired by Nicholas Sparks' The Notebook, as well as my own experience with Alzheimer's in my family. I'll be posting the first two chapters to sort of test the waters and continue if I get a good response (because aren't we all at heart somewhat ego-driven?). But really, I'd love to hear what you all think so far. I promise it will get to more original story line after the first few chapters, I think. I just have to set it up right. Anyway, thanks for reading!

Stormy Weather - Chapter 1

There were some human customs, that even after years of living on Earth; Spock could never get fully used to. For instance, he still hated shaking hands, which made meeting new people even more unpleasant than usual. There were some, however, that he suffered through willingly.

That was the case as he sat alone on a wooden bench overlooking a large river. He had been there for, by his estimate, one hour, but despite Vulcan logic he found that time sometimes escaped him in moments of complete serenity. He wasn't even meditating, and yet the sheer natural beauty of his surroundings coupled with the patience that he had learned over the years from returning to this spot gave him a sense of peace and belonging, something that had for so long escaped the half-Vulcan. Watching the sunrise had begun as something he was dragged to, but now he went willingly. It never failed to amaze him how many emotions it dragged up in him.

The sun began to peek its eager head over the trees in the distance, filling the sky surrounding it with vibrant shades of pink and orange, and reflecting in the clear water of the lake. A single bird flew out across the lake at a leisurely pace, dipping its talons into the surface, causing it to ripple ever so smoothly as the bird flew higher and out of sight, leaving only the ripples as evidence that it was even there. Spock took a deep breath in, trying to take in the picture around him as best as he could. For even the most natural of beauty was fleeting, as he had learned very well throughout his years. The sun became bigger over the trees and flooded the environment with light, coloring the grass a vibrant green and he found himself wishing, as he had so many times before, that he could push pause and let everything come to a standstill. How he wished that things would stop, slow down, even rewind to a time when things could be taken as they were. As the sun finally revealed its entire being, he knew that to wish this was illogical. He knew, but that didn't stop him from wanting.

Even in his older age, Spock had a certain briskness about him, made evident by the way he was trudging along the path back up to the building. It was painted white entirely on the outside, and was much larger than an average home. Spock had long earlier conceded that it might have once been a "plantation", from Earth's former years, kept in good condition quite miraculously in his opinion. He looked up now to the third window on the second floor and saw that the blinds were still closed, which wasn't always a good sign. But then again, Spock didn't believe in signs. He could make this a good day, he just needed time.

An elderly human woman greeted Spock as he entered the building.

"Good morning, Mr. Spock!" She said warmly with a smile. "How was your walk this morning?"

"Same as always, Mrs. Chapel, and not unlike yourself." He stated, walking over to her desk. She gave him a look of faux confusion to let him carry on. "Very beautiful." He added, offering her a slight twinge of his lips as a smile. They had carried on in this fashion every morning since he had begun taking his walks, but it never failed to warm his old, tired bones to have a nice friend.

"That's good to hear." She said sweetly. "But I don't know how many times I have to tell you, sir, call me Christine."

"Yes, of course, Nurse Chapel. I apologize." He replied, almost smirking. Almost. He laughed inwardly when he thought of all the human habits he had picked up, no question in his mind as to how. She laughed heartily at his reply and motioned to the stairs across from her station.

"You can go on up, sir, but I don't wanna hear that the maids caught you stealing another one of those blankets, you hear me?" She replied, her tone both menacing and playful.

"If that is the case then you should refrain from speaking to the maids later today. That is, if what they have to say might upset you." He gave her a knowing wink before starting up the stairs, seeing her shake her head in a combination of fondness and disapproval before he turned the corner and continued up the flight. By now he had memorized the building by heart, but more importantly, the location of one room. He was there in seconds but waited a bit longer before knocking. After two deep breaths he let his hand knock against the white door. He heard some shuffling inside and two muffled voices before a nurse opened the door to let herself out, shutting the door behind her.

"Mr. Spock, how are you today?" She said casually, tucking her black hair behind her ears. This was another human custom he had trouble with: small talk. While he enjoyed it to some degree with certain people, it was always slightly uncomfortable. The other party always assumed he was uninterested because of his stoic manner, but it usually was not the case. Either way, he had always done his best to assimilate into the human culture, and if that meant casual banter was necessary, so be it.

"I am well. And how is he?" He said, cutting to the chase. He was eager to enter the room and she was standing in his way.

"There have been better days…" She said softly, giving him a knowing look. Another thing, euphemisms. Why not just state the meaning directly? Trying to make it sound "better" provided an unnecessary opportunity for misunderstanding. Fortunately they had been through this for so long that they had a sort of code and understood each other exactly.

"I see." He replied, voice unchanging. They stood for a while in silence. The nurse looked contemplative, trying in vain to read the older man's expression. As if she expected after all this time for him to finally give up. "Do you require more time to prepare yourself or are we to enter now?" Her expression was incredulous as she scrambled to open the door.

"Giving up" had once been a part of his nature. When the odds were against him, and there was no chance in succeeding, he always thought the logical course of action was to turn and walk away. Until someone came along and taught him that there is no such thing as a no-win situation.


	2. Chapter 2

Stormy Weather - Chapter 2

The room was almost completely white. Carpet from wall-to-wall, the drapes over the window that overlooked the same river, a white night stand and to top it all off a whit duvet over a double bed that faced the window. Inwardly Spock wondered if the furnishings in the room had once had colors and patterns on them that had been washed out over the years.

There was a man lying on the bed, his head propped against the pillows with his arms at his sides over the covers. On the outside he looked quite healthy, save for the common signs of old age. White hair that almost blended in to the pillow, faint wheezing when breaths were taken, and crow's feet around soft blue eyes which were now staring blankly at the window. The fact that a new person had entered the room did not seem to register.

"This is Mr. Spock, he's going to tell you a story, how'd you like that?" The nurse announced, walking over to the bed to puff the pillows behind him. He didn't reply, and barely seemed to recognize the change when she was done. He continued to stare at the window as Spock walked around his bed to sit on a chair he pulled closer to the bed.

"Hello, sir." He asserted, slight warmth in his deep voice. There was no warm greeting in return, as there had once been. No longer did the man's eyes light up upon seeing his visitor; no more was the happy banter that the two had once shared shared. The man in the bed did, however, turn his head to look at Spock without even a trace of recognition in his eyes. It was the best Spock could hope for, on mornings like these. "It is quite a beautiful morning, is it not?" The man in the bed was silent for a moment, as if he was searching for the words.

"Yes, I suppose it is." He murmured before turning back to look at the window. Across the room the nurse let a look of shock show on her face before it was washed over with another look of understanding. Despite all her best efforts she could barely get a word out of her patient – how this man was able to get a whole sentence in a matter of minutes was beyond her. After all these years she had thought she'd be used to witnessing the effect the men had on each other, but it never failed to warm her heart ever so slightly.

"Now then," Spock started, appearing to make himself comfortable in the chair. "How would you like me to tell you a story that I have told many times to my own children? They often tell me they never tire of hearing it."

"I think I'd like a story," The sickly man said, stronger this time. "That is, if you're not tired of telling it." With that he turned back facing Spock and for a split second something of a smirk appeared across his face, but it went as fast as it came. Spock wondered if he was now imagining things.

"I am confident that I will manage, sir." Spock lifted his hand to press to the other man's head, almost forgetting to-"May I?" He asked kindly, thoughts flitting back to the first time when asking became necessary again. A slight look of confusion struck the bedridden man, but he did not look offended.

"Of course, go on." He obliged, if only slightly apprehensive. And so Spock tapped into the man's mind ever so lightly, if only to show him the story better than he could ever simply tell it. It was the only way he knew how. Moving images start to float through their consciences, one after another.

_A young, blond, human boy speeds down a seemingly deserted path in a vintage car. He ignores the protests of his stepfather heard through the intercom and speeds up when a police vehicle starts to follow him. In an attempt to thwart the follower, the boy turns onto a closed off road and drives directly towards a cliff, jumping out of the car with only seconds to spare. He climbs up from the cliff edge and onto his feet, as the police officer asks his name. _

"_My name is James Tiberius Kirk." He announces proudly._

_In a room full of Vulcan children in their learning pods, one child stands out. It is his human eyes that give him away, for he is just as studious and just as stoic as all the rest. A few other children corner him after the session is finished and in an attempt to elicit an emotional reaction from the half-human, they insult his human mother. The child attacks them with rage in his expressive eyes that often betray him. Later his father explains that marrying a human, his mother, was the logical thing to do, as he was the Vulcan ambassador to Earth. He explains to the child that he is one of two worlds, and must choose the path he would take. _

_The half-Vulcan is older now, speaking with his human mother before going before the elders to assess his application into the Vulcan Science Academy. He got in but refused with intent to join Starfleet, as the elders had offended him by calling his mixed heritage a handicap. _

_The human, now older like the Vulcan, enters a bar and gets himself into a fight with Starfleet cadets. Their captain stops the fight and corners the beat up boy later, pressuring him to join Starfleet and prove that he could "do better" than his father, who had died saving the lives of 800 on the ill-fated U.S.S. Kelvin. Kirk acts aloof but shows up the next morning to the recruitment shuttle and begins his journey in Starfleet._

_A rambunctious student, the young man takes an intentionally impossible test but passes after making adjustments to the programming. He is taken before a hearing of ranking officers to address his apparent cheating, and meets his accuser: the half-Vulcan, who was now a Commander in Starfleet, and also ran the test that Kirk had tampered with. The two shared less than amicable words before a distress signal was to be answered, requiring all cadets and officers to report to their assigned starships. Because of his suspension Kirk was not assigned a starship but his friend and doctor Leonard McCoy sneaked him on the Enterprise, the flagship. With Captain Pike at the helm, the same one who had convinced the young Iowa boy to join Starfleet in the first place, and Commander Spock as the Science Officer, the Enterprise jet off into space to answer the distress signal, only slightly behind the rest of the fleet because of a small error by the ship's stand-in pilot, Hiraku Sulu. But the mistake would prove beneficial upon arrival, as the only man on board who knew they were headed for a trap was the one man who wasn't even supposed to be on the ship._

Spock stopped his mind narration and retreated back into his seat, allowing the man the rest. Even though he was only initiating a very light mind meld, he knew that the man would need a break from time to time. The man, however, looked grieved.

"So it's a love story, then?" The man finally asks, looking slightly more alert then he had been just earlier. He still had an overall look of tiredness about him, as even his speech was somewhat slow.

"What makes you say that?" Spock asked, somewhat incredulous. The story had barely even begun, as he was just setting up for what was to come.

"I'm not sure…" The man replied, looking again out the window, as if looking for the answer or some form of comfort. "Something about those two…" He started, but drifted off, apparently in thought as well as words. After a short silence, he spoke again. "Well, what happens next?"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This one's a little short, and dialogue-driven. I hope it doesn't seem like I'm rushing it... although that just may be my inner critic. Just a tidbit, while writing this I've had Lena Horne's "Stormy Weather" on repeat (it's also where I got the title, go figure) and some Bobby Darin, too... "Beyond the Sea" and all that. Oh and the quintessential "I'll Be Seeing You" by the lovely Billie Holiday, of course. Just in case anyone wanted a soundtrack ;)

Stormy Weather – Chapter 3

The dining area was scattered with patrons and their nurses, idle chatter floating through the room as the first meal of the day was served. Spock sat with the older gentleman at the same table they had occupied everyday unfailingly, but was silent as the other man stared vacantly at the window, which was level with the river. As he had grown accustomed to doing, Spock began gently scooping the oatmeal-like food into the man's mouth, allowing time for him to swallow before feeding him again. The man inclined only to open his mouth when the spoon was placed there and then to swallow the presumably ill-tasting substance. Despite being fed three meals a day and being kept on a strict nutritional diet, the man was visibly frail, sat in a wheelchair, and could only walk with assistance. Even then his movements were slow and calculated. The look on the man's face was always either pensive or empty – and it was getting hard to tell the difference between the two.

"Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy is here to see you now." A young nurse that had walked up to the table announced.

"Ah, I was not aware it was the end of the month already." Spock replied, setting down the spoon. "When I return I should like to tell you more of the story, if you feel so inclined." He directed towards the man in the wheelchair. The man broke his gaze out the window to watch Spock get out of his chair, allowing the nurse to take his place. For a moment it seemed he was searching for words to reply but instead just nodded.

"You will be in good hands while I am gone." Spock stated, turning to leave the dining area. The other man watched him go, and for a few moments after kept his gaze fixed on the swinging door he exited from.

------------------

"You know, Spock, I'm beginning to wonder if I should come down here more often." McCoy said with concern in his eyes, surrounded by crow's feet and creases in his forehead. Beeping noises came from the tricoder he was using to examine the Vulcan, and he scowled at the charts in his other hand.

"You need not concern yourself with an old soul such as mine, Doctor. Surely your expertise is of much more use at Starfleet Medical. While your monthly check-ups have benefitted me, I realize you are an indispensible component at the hospital and I do not intend to keep you away from more important tasks."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, but I'm sure as hell not going to let you change the subject on me. Your health has deteriorated more in the past three months than it has in the past five years. This is killing you, and you know it. I know you care for him, we _all_ care for him, but I can't let you do this to yourself, man! You should be healthy, a Vulcan your age! I'd've thought with all your logic you'd know when to see a lost cause." McCoy spat, and his eyes seemed to be shooting daggers into the other man's head. Spock pondered this for a short while before responding, ever stoic.

"I have found that more often than not, love prevails over any logic. You should be familiar with this sentiment." McCoy just stared at him, temporarily losing ability to speak.

"I don't know what to say anymore, Spock. Nothing I say is gonna change anything." He expressed finally, putting away the file in quiet defeat. "It's like I'm talking to a different person, you know that? Whatever happened to the old Spock I knew and despised?"

"James Kirk happened." Spock uttered almost immediately, and McCoy almost missed it. He let out a soft chuckle before sitting down on a chair next to the examination bed Spock was perched on.

"You can say that again." He relaxed into the chair, and both men looked deep in thought, as if they were thinking the same thing. McCoy had aged, but very gracefully as Spock had always suspected. His blue eyes were softer now, but his scowl had only grown in fervency. His expression now seemed even more troubled. "It's just so frustrating, dammit, it's a goddamn curable disease, in the early stages! If I'd've just gone with my hunch and gotten to him in time, if I just…"

"Please, Leonard, it is in the past." Spock interrupted purposefully. "There is no use pondering hypotheticals when nothing can be done." He looked at him now. Although he didn't voice it, Spock shared the same regret that the doctor was feeling.

"I suppose you're right." He agreed before getting out of the chair and beginning to collect his charts and supplies. "I'll be 'round again the end of next month. Hell, I might stop in earlier if I feel like it."

"As always, it was good seeing you." Spock said thoughtfully, still sitting on the bed. He began to lift his right hand into the Vulcan salute but McCoy waved it away.

"Don't give me that crap." His words were harsh but his tone conveyed deep affection towards the old friend. He made for the door but turned one last time to speak. "Oh, and Spock?" The other man raised an eyebrow as if to urge him to continue. "There's no use living in the past, either."


End file.
